


The Burning Kingdom

by wolvesinthenight



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark, Dragon Age AU, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-22 15:22:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16600517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolvesinthenight/pseuds/wolvesinthenight
Summary: Civil unrest in southern Ferelden seeps to the northern lands of Highever. After an attack on House Cousland its heir is given over to the waning order of Grey Wardens in return for her safety. Now she's caught between rebuilding her house and fulfilling her duties as a warden and all the while Ferelden is tearing itself apart. AU, NO BLIGHT. fcouslandxalistair





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Ostagar**

_Her parries were automatic her thrusts almost involuntary. Her body seemed to move without the involvement of her mind- the result of hours of drills and sparring. Yet it wasn’t the same, she realized as she sunk her sword into the belly of the man she was fighting. First through the armor. Then a slight elastic resistance- she could feel the skin give way and then flesh and then the squelch of soft organs as her weapon invaded the man’s abdomen and shredded his insides. Disgusted she withdrew the blade quickly, a spew of blood and pinkish slop followed. The man gurgled sickeningly and fell to the ground, his guts slid out of the wound and onto the stone at her feet. The stench was unbelievable. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat._

_This is what it feels like to kill someone._

_She wanted to vomit, wanted to drop her weapon, curl up on the floor and just cease being. But she didn’t. The next soldier was advancing on her. She gripped her dagger tight._

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **“…The stars are not wanted now; put out every one** ****  
> **Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun** ****  
> **Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;** ****  
> **For nothing now can come to any good** _._ ”  
>    
>  \- _Funeral Blues_ by WH Auden

 

The sun was at its peak when the travellers arrived at Ostagar. The camp was bustling with people and activity, the colourful tents surrounding them in contrast to the grey ruins. Laughter and music rang through the air, echoing against the cold stone, now and again, the bellow of merchants advertising their wares rose above the din.

One of the travellers, Emery Cousland, seethed internally. The atmosphere of the camp mocked her dark mood. As they made their way through the tents and people, she noticed a few familiar faces, but with her hood up, and her eyes low, she avoided being recognized. If she had spent more time at court she might’ve known more of the faces assembled.

Court seemed like a distant world now. In the past, she’d mostly dreaded spending any time in Denerim. She had grown up far from the sophistication of the capital and as a result had always felt out of place when she visited there.  She’d been resentful and envious of the cosmopolitan ladies in Denerim’s court whose silk dresses and elegant demeanour made her feel common as mud.

But how she had changed. In one night her view of herself and the world had shifted. Fretting over fashion and suitors seemed ridiculous, now. Her home was gone, her family were dead.

Scarcely three weeks ago she had been woken by the sounds of screams and smell of smoke. Emery had raced to her parent’s room and found her mother, still in bed, struck through the chest. Eleanor Cousland’s face was frozen in a look of surprise.

It had been then that Duncan had burst in and, grabbing her by the shoulders, had brought her to her feet. He forced a dagger into her grip and she’d followed him onward.

They found her father in the main hall, as he lay bleeding onto the stones. There, in his final moments, in return for Duncan delivering Emery to safety, he had pledged her to the Grey Wardens. His final act was weakly passing his sword to her.

Duncan had spoken little to her on the journey. She was not inclined toward conversation anyhow. The little he told her, was of their destination. Ferelden wardens were gathering in Ostagar where a section of ruins had collapsed and opened an entrance to the Deep Roads. King Cailan along with most of his court seemed to view it as an opportunity for sport and so had traipsed there too.

After weeks of hard travel with little in the way of comforts or conversation, finally, Emery and Duncan had arrived, travel-worn and caked in mud.

One priority had stayed clear in her mind since they’d left Highever. Over and over she repeated in her head that she was not alone. A month earlier her brother Fergus had travelled to Denerim with a chaperone to attend the Harvest festival. Fergus Cousland was fifteen and already enraptured with life at court. Emery was sure he would have found a way to convince Ser Berach, his chaperone and a knight employed by her family,  to have taken a detour on the way back to Highever and come to Ostagar with the rest of the nobility.

She reached Duncan and fell in step behind him, unsure of how to broach the subject of searching for her brother in the camp. As usual, it seemed he barely took notice of her presence. How she hated him. He had wrangled an oath from her dying father and in exchange for her life she was passed to the wardens like cattle. They had travelled far together since leaving Highever and during that time disgust for the Warden Commander had smoothly transitioned to hatred. He had been stoic and reserved in her company- never saying more or less than was needed. Even if his silence was borne from tact and respect for her grief, it had only allowed her time and isolation to fan the flames of her hate into a raging bonfire.  
  
But however she felt about the man, propriety had been set in her bone-deep since infancy. Let no-one say that Emery Cousland was surly.

“Ser Duncan,” she said, halting their progress, “I believe Fergus may be camped here, I think I should begin searching for him now”. Duncan turned to her, he’d long given up on telling her he was not a ‘ser’.

“In time,” He said calmly, grasping her shoulder firmly, preventing her from moving “Right now we must find the Wardens. I’ll give you leave to search for your brother as soon as I’m able”. Emery fumed behind a mask of civility.

“Of course. I am at your disposable” she said blankly. Duncan frowned before sighing and continuing on. In truth, he did not know how best to deal with her. He’d left her to her grief during their journey hoping she would be able to work through some of it. Instead, she’d been growing increasingly distant, retreating into politeness and propriety.

Emery was the first woman he had ever had under his command, and so young too. It was not uncommon for Grey Wardens to be conscripted through tragic circumstances but he had no idea where or how to begin to console her over the loss of her family. Though she had not tarried or complained during their travels something about her called for a delicacy he was not accustomed to.

* * *

 

The Grey Wardens camp was nestled in a corner of the ruins under the shadow of a broken tower, secluded from the cacophony of activity. Threadbare bedrolls were haphazardly arranged around a modest fire where of a dozen or so men conversed quietly.

“Duncan,” said a dark-skinned elf, getting up “Finally, you’ve returned. Who is this?” he asked, looking at Emery with huge green eyes. His was hair short and dark, and his skin nut brown and unlined, making it impossible to tell his age. And, though faded, Emery noticed silvery tattoos traced over his features, elaborate and utterly foreign.

“This is the new recruit, Lady Emery Cousland of Highever.” The elf appeared surprised, he and Duncan shared an anxious look,“There was an unexpected change of plan” Duncan said.

“Very well” the elf replied in a measured tone.

“My Lady” Duncan said, turning to her. “This is Airard, my lieutenant”

“Good to meet you Lieutenant Airard,” Emery said primly. To her irritation, a ghost of a smile twitched on the elf’s lips. He found her amusing.

“And you too, My Lady”

“Airard,” Duncan said, turning to the elf again, “Lady Emery believes her brother is in the noble’s camp and has a need to find him. The search will go quicker with your help, I hope. But before that see to it that she rests and gets something to eat” Airard nodded dutifully and Duncan left without a word or a glance at Emery.

The Grey Wardens grew quiet as Airard gestured Emery an empty space among them. As she sunk down, she suppressed a groan, three weeks of riding had made her stiff in the most uncomfortable places. Airard sat down next to her and began ladling stew out of a pot, chattering ceaselessly about the weather as if unaware of the rest of the wardens silently staring at Emery. They were all men, and all had a rough, battle-weary look about them. She wondered at all the horrible things they had seen and killed and shivered with fear. She had only ever heard tales of darkspawn. Their faces were solemn but not unkind, but Emery cast her gaze down to the floor and accepted her bowl mutely. After a while, their conversation quietly started up again, with even Airard joining in. She absently tried to follow what they were saying but was soon lost.

The food was not unpleasant but Emery found she couldn’t finish her helping. The warden’s conversation had fallen into a relaxing cadence. She stared into the fire and her eyes began to droop. Unbidden, memories returned of her father telling tales at the hearth in Highever’s hall. All the keep’s children usually found their way there too as her father told them all stories of the fearsome Grey Wardens, solemnly charging into battle on shining white griffons…

She dreamed of home. The castle was oppressively silent and blood pooled between the stone at her feet.

* * *

 

Wiry hands shook Emery awake and her eyes opened to Airard’s face. She found herself still in her hunting leathers and weighted down by a ludicrous amount of blankets. She scowled as she tried to kick herself free of them.

“Ah, yes” Airard, laughed “it seems chivalry is not dead or at the very least the image of you passed out in your stew inspired pity amongst the men”. As she sat up on the bedroll the elf’s eyes were upon her and twinkled with amusement. It seemed he had a permanent smirk attached to his face that suggested he was the only one party to some great secret or joke.

“Where are the wardens?” she asked noticing the camp was empty save them,

“They’re with the mages at the rift, although they should be returning shortly” Airard answered and handed her a corner of dry bread and some cheese. Emery’s stomach growled and she quickly began devouring her meagre breakfast.

“There are mages here? Why?” she asked between bites. Mages…she wondered at that. She had never met a trained mage before.

“It was Duncan’s idea; he hopes they will repair the chasm once it has been purged of darkspawn. He sent some wardens to the Circle tower to request aid before he left for Highever. They arrived last night”. The food turned to ash in Emery’s mouth at the mention of her home. She swallowed and got up.

“Forgive me, Lieutenant. I have wasted enough time resting, I must find my brother now- with or without your assistance” She started to move but Airard stepped in front of her blocking her path. He laughed lightly.

“No need, my Lady. Your brother’s attendants have found _you_. Duncan reported to the King yesterday and word reached your brother that you were at our camp. He sent a servant last night but we refused to wake you. You seemed too much in need of rest.” Emery sagged with relief,

“Thank you, although I wish you’d woken me earlier. Please…where is he?”

“Of course, but first, uh, you may, want to find a place to bathe. You’re travels have been long”

“Oh, yes of course,” Emery said, suddenly extremely aware of her bedraggled appearance.

Airard helped Emery gather her belongings; her father’s sword was wrapped in rags and strapped securely to her pack. The weight of it on her back set a lump in her throat.  
  
Airard and Emery saw to a last-minute tidying-up and were about to head off when a group of returning wardens entered the camp, deep in conversation. Most of them Emery recognized from the day before but there were a few that she knew had not been at camp with her. One, in particular, seemed younger than the rest of the wardens. He was tall and clad in splint mail that appeared to have seen far fewer patch-jobs and beatings than the other wardens. Suddenly they all burst into laughter, from the young warden’s blush, the joke was appeared to have been at his expense.

Emery and Airard walked up to meet the group.

“Alistair,” he said, and laughed, “Glad to see you returned from The Circle intact. When you left you were sure they would turn you into a toad”. The wardens snickered and Alistair seemed to notice Emery at Airard’s side,

“ _This_ is the new recruit,” he said incredulously, “Hhargrin, you didn’t mention it’s a girl!” The man at Alistair’s side bellowed with laughter. He was humongous and had a fearsome scar that zigzagged over his bald head and down through his eyebrow.

“It was hard to tell under all the mud,” said the large warden. They roared with laughter. To Airard’s credit, all he did was crack a sharp smile. Emery felt her face grow hot. So much for the solemn warriors she’d seen the day before.

“ Could be worse…” Hhargrin added, “‘least she’s not a mage!”

“I am standing _right_ here, Hhargrin” said a robed man in the group with mock indignation. Everyone laughed again.

“Don’t worry Levreth,” Alistair said, “You’re the exception and I’d take a mage over a noble any day of the week. Can you imagine?” Alistair laughed, “We wouldn’t get a moments rest from, ‘my daddy freed you lowly peasants from foreign rule’ or ‘why yes, this _is_ Orlesian silk’.  Bunch of complete ponces”.

“Excuse me, Ser? Be aware of the company you’re in and watch your tone” Emery said, pouring in every ounce of indignation and authority she could muster.

“Oh yes, sure, _My Lady”_ Alistair laughed, and Emery realized he thought she was being funny “If you’re a high-born I must be the king of Ferelden!”.  The other wardens clearly knew who Emery was, conspiratorial smiles and silent laughter seemed to have overtaken them.

No-one noticed Duncan and an elderly elven woman approach.

“Ah, Alistair,” he said, momentarily startling everyone at his presence “I see you’ve met our newest recruit, Lady Emery”. The elf women, a servant, curtsied,

“My Lady,” she said meekly. Alistair looked confused for a moment and then gaped at Emery in disbelief,

“Wait...you?”.

“Well…” said Airard jovially.

“I take it I missed something” Duncan interjected, Airard just shrugged with a smile and Duncan sighed.

“Alright, off with you lot now, “Airard bellowed at the wardens, mood turning “you’ve had your fun. No doubt you’ve all got something more important to do- unless you’d like to run some drills with me?” at that the wardens quickly dispersed. Alistair stayed behind and approached Airard and Emery but before he could speak Airard raised his hand and stopped him,

“You too lad.” Alistair turned tail and stalked dejectedly away. Emery stared at his back as he left, the corners of her mouth quirked in irritation.

“Lady Emery” Duncan queried, breaking her out of her reverie, “This is Obrinthe, a serving-women in your brother’s employ”. The matronly elf curtsied. She might have been the oldest elf Emery had ever seen. Her hair was a steely grey and her face lined with many years. Unlike Airard, she had no tattoos to speak of.

“My Lady,” she said “A tent has been set for you, with some clothes and uh,“ her eyes gave Emery’s bedraggled appearance a once-over, ” A fresh bath.”

“Thank-you,” said Emery properly, trying to scrape together some dignity, “You may take me there now”. Emery followed Obrinthe and to her consternation so did Airard and Duncan. As if sensing her confusion,

“I too wish to meet with your brother, But don’t worry, take your time getting ready” Duncan offered, “In the meantime, Airard and I have much to discuss”

They had erected Emery a tent on the outskirts of the main camp, thankfully away from most of the bustle. Obrinthe held the flap aside for Emery. She paused at the entrance and remembering her manners turned to Obrinthe.

“Perhaps you can organize some refreshments for the wardens while I take my bath” Obrinthe nodded,

“Of course My Lady”

“Thank you, very good”. With a nod to Airard and Duncan, she disappeared and secured the flap behind her.

The tent was cool and dim inside. Emery realized she was alone for the first time since Highever, and let out a shaky breath. There were only a few furnishings but in the centre of the tent was a massive tub steaming with clear water and a table full of sponges and soaps, Emery bit back a sigh of relief and began fervently stripping off her hunting leather s. They had only ever camped in the wilderness on her journey from Highever which had meant bathing was limited to cold streams and lakes.

She sank into the tub with a breathy exhale and closed her eyes, trying not to think.

It occurred to her that in the excitement of the morning she’d barely even thought about her parents. Now that she was alone, however, the black weight on her heart seemed to have returned and was even heavier before. It was because of Fergus she realized. She wondered if anyone had told him. Perhaps news had reached him before she’d even arrived.

She imagined Fergus hobbled by grief, eyes red with crying- he was so young, even for fifteen. She would not be able to bear it- seeing him in that state. Thus far she’d kept up appearances, leaning on silence and stoicism in the face of her loss. It was easier, she thought. If she broke, she didn’t know if she would be able to keep herself from coming entirely apart. It was if a yawning emptiness had awoken inside of her that sucked the potency and life out of every emotion she felt. She swallowed the lump in her throat and sank lower into the tub feeling as if she would never be happy again.

The tent flap opened letting in a shaft of light as well as Obrinthe, the old elf.

“My lady” she tsked, as she saw Emery, “Baths are for washing not lazing”. Emery smiled sadly as Obrinthe secured the tent flap and was immediately reminded of Nan, a servant at Highever – she too had been meek and polite in public and then clucked and hissed like a mother hen behind closed doors. Nan, who was dead-  like almost everyone that had become as essential to her home as the stones and mortar.

“Up you get young one,” Obrinthe said, gesturing impatiently. She grabbed a scrub brush and looked at Emery expectantly. Emery realized the woman intended to scrub her down personally.

“Madam” Emery began, humiliated, “There is no need for you to do that. I assure you I can wash myself!”

“Hush” Obrinthe, interjected kindly, “I meant no offence. I saw how you were looking when I came in and I… I heard those wardens talking about what happened to your people. So I’ll be begging your pardon but the state you must be in, I wouldn’t trust you to fasten your own boots”.

For the first time, Emery felt as if she might cry. Obrinthe seemed to be busying inspecting the soaps and scented oils while she waited for her charge to collect herself. Sighing dejectedly Emery stood up in the bath, submitting to Obrinthe’s plans.

However fragile the elf believed Emery to be in spirit she had no such illusions about her physical condition. The woman scrubbed her pink and raw. When she saw the water had turned murky she ordered her to get out and wait. Emery stood in the nude dripping and shivering as Obrinthe disappeared and brought in several unknown elf women who cleared away the tub and shortly after returned with one freshly filled with water.

Besides the rare instruction Obrinthe and her helpers seemed to treat Emery like a piece of furniture- not even a curtsy or the perfunctory “my lady” escaped any of them. Emery felt strangely put at ease by their behaviour and offered them the same indifference.  
  
As the time passed Emery’s thoughts drifted into oblivion and the world around her disappeared. When Obrinthe began to wash her hair Emery didn’t even notice fat tears slowly trailing down her own cheeks. Finally, when the girl could get no cleaner the elf swaddled her in linens and towels, sat her down on a stool and began to run a comb through the length of Emery’s long hair.

Then the old elf spoke for the first time in what seemed like hours,

“Now My Lady,” she said, breaking the spell“Which style do you like best?” Emery, coming back to herself,  answered in a voice cracked voice,

“Usually the old Ferelden styles,”

“Ah, traditional, then?” approved Obrinthe, as she began to deftly separate Emery’s locks, “I am glad- Those Orlesian fashions are bit much for my tastes – and for my old fingers”. Emery sighed as Obrinthe massaged oil into her scalp and hair,

“I worried for my brother in Denerim, you know,” said Emery wondering at the old elf, “but it seems like there was no need. I am glad he found you. Although, that he would take on a lady’s maid is bit…unusual”. Obrinthe laughed,

“It was _I_ who found the young lord and begged for a job as a serving woman. I’m not a lady’s maid”. Emery was genuinely shocked,

“Well, I suggest a change in career,” she said.

“Ah, “said Obrinthe smiling wanly, “I should have said that I was _once_ a lady’s maid- but haven’t been for many years. Unfortunately for me, Denerim’s ladies like their maids how they like their dresses- unwrinkled and fashionable”.

Emery scoffed in derision,

“Just another reason to be glad that I have never lived at court.” she trailed off. Obrinthe stiffened imperceptibly at Emery’s words.

“But, surely such a luxurious life would be wonderful?” Obrinthe asked carefully, her voice light,

“I suppose I’ve always thought they were beautiful, but…” she sat up straighter and tried to find the right words to explain, “ My father used to tell me that having money and authority is more than a privilege- it’s a responsibility, that people who have power are held to a higher standard of honour and duty”

“Sounds like a wise man” nodded Obrinthe.

“He was,” said Emery in a brittle voice.

Obrinthe attached the last of the pins to Emery hair and helped her into loose pants and a long, a deep blue tunic. She belted the garment at the waist and presented her with new leather boots. Emery was faint with relief that she had not been asked to wear a dress.  
  
Obrinthe solemnly returned to Emery the dagger she had been carrying since Duncan gave it to her at Highever. She stuck it in her belt and the elf looked her over and nodded in approval.

She was rather pleased with her handiwork. Emery’s dark hair gleamed in its coiled plaits and the colour of the tunic set off her pale complexion and brought out the blue in her large grey eyes. The girl was not beautiful, at least in any obvious or girlish way, there was something too heavy and serious in her expression, as if behind her eyes thoughts and considerations of significance were taking place.

“Very well, My Lady. I think it’s about time you see your brother”

Emery agreed. She felt more like herself than she had in ages.

“Obrinthe, “Emery began, “How can I thank you for today and, I suspect, caring for my brother and keeping him out of trouble? “The elf seemed genuinely surprised at her gratitude and even a little embarrassed. Emery waved her refusals off- she would find some way to repay her or at least to show that her actions were greatly appreciated.

As they exited the tent, she was greeted by the sight of a now familiar grey warden. Emery rolled her eyes.

“Well, if it isn’t the King of Ferelden,” she said icily, “Please excuse me while I curtsy. Oh, wait…” Alistair laughed nervously,

“I might’ve deserved that, uh, My Lady?” Emery stared at him coldly. Obrinthe discreetly excused herself to and fetch Duncan and Airard from the Grey Warden camp.

“But truly,” Alistair cleared his throat after she had disappeared, “I apologize”. Emery waved him off dismissively before sighing and letting her stern expression drop to reveal one of exhaustion,

“Say no more of it” she shrugged, “…And there might be some truth to your words. Although, understand, not all high-borns are ‘complete ponces’ just as I am sure not all wardens are blundering idiots” she pointedly looked at him as she said this.

“Mm. Harsh, although I might’ve deserved that. Consider me sufficiently reprimanded” He grinned lopsidedly at her before clearing his throat awkwardly and contemplating his boots.

They waited in an uncomfortable silence until Obrinthe arrived back with Duncan and Airard. Alistair made a speedy exit as soon as they appeared.

Obrinthe led Emery and the Wardens through through the camp. Airard subtly fell back to join Emery,

“ Your Ladyship” he whispered,

“ Yes, Lieutenant”

“ You seem better,” he said,

“  Thank you, I guess,” Emery said lamely. They continued a few steps in an awkward silence. Airard seemed restless.

“ Lieutenant, was there something you wanted to ask me-?”

“ Ah yes,” said Airard quickly, “ I grew up with the Dalish and I don’t spend a lot of time with high-born folk, so I’m not familiar with the nuances of your culture but…”. Airard trailed off but Emery had an inkling where this was going.

“ You think I am offended by-“

“ Truly, Alistair didn’t mean anything by what he said.” Airard interrupted quickly, “ He’s not always as, uh, thoughtful, as he should be and most of what he says is in jest- but he’s a good man”.

“ Don’t worry Airard, I’ve already accepted his apology.” She smiled thinly, “ besides I am more thick-skinned than I look”. Airard blew out a sigh of relief and his familiar grin crept back on his face,

“ That is definitely a good thing. As the most junior of the wardens I suspect you too will be forced to spend a lot of time together,”

“ Ah, something to look forward to then,” she said dryly and Airard laughed.

They crested the hill upon which Fergus camped. Emery still didn’t know whether her brother had been informed of the tragedy at Highever- either way, she looked to the upcoming meeting with trepidation. The sun had begun to set and the land was bathed in a warm orange glow. Obrinthe held the flap open  and Emery took a deep breath before entering her brother’s tent.

 

* * *

Please review! :)


	2. Fergus

“Truth, like light, blinds. Falsehood, on the contrary, is a beautiful twilight that enhances every object.”  
\- Albert Camus

  
The tent was lavishly furnished and decorated in the Cousland colours with platters of food and carafes wine covering every surface. Fergus Cousland leaned back in a chair behind a table at the centre of the space. It had only been two months since he had left Highever but Emery was struck by how much he had changed. He was dressed in the latest, no doubt costly, fashion and seemed to be cultivating a sparse goatee.

“Sister!” he drawled happily at the sight of her and she realized two things- first, that given his mood, he hadn’t been informed of the attack and second, that the boy had been at the wine. “I can’t believe you’re actually here. Finally got tired of mother’s nagging and decided to join the fun?”

It would have been less painful if Fergus had slapped her. She’d known it would fall to her to inform him about their family’s demise, but there was more; joining the Grey Wardens meant that she would no longer have a claim to Highever. Fergus would be heir to the title.

“ Fergus, “ she began, and gestured to Airard and Duncan, “This is Warden Commander Duncan and his Lieutenant, Airard.”

Fergus brightened at her words.

“Well met, wardens. I had heard my sister travelled here with you. How my father managed to employ you as escorts…” he trailed off, Emery cringed inwardly at his presumption before Fergus clapped her on the shoulder and continued, “I guess it’s always the best for you, right Em? If only Haela was here, I’ve had to put her in the camp’s kennels for now but I know she’ll be glad to see you."

Emery doubted that. Haela, Fergus’ mabari only had eyes for him and treated every other creature with outright suspicion.

The group stood awkwardly in silence for a moment. Emery walked stiffly over to the table and sat down, gesturing at the free seats to the others but the wardens remained standing.

“Fergus,” Emery began carefully, “There is something we must discuss-“

“I too have something to tell you,” Fergus interrupted excitedly and grabbed her hands.

“ Fergus, wai-“

“Something wonderful has happened,” he interrupted, eyes lit with excitement. “Sister, I have fallen in love.”

Emery was startled into silence and to her horror, Fergus continued. “She’s the most lovely creature I have ever seen and she danced with me at the ball, twice!”

“Oh,” said Emery lamely. Maker, she thought, why did Duncan and Airard have to be here for this, “Who is she?” she said in a quiet voice, trying to ignore the Wardens’ presence.

“Ah, of course, how silly of me,” laughed Fergus, “She is Habren of South Reach.”

“Arl Bryland’s daughter?” Emery stated distractedly, “ If you’re serious, she will make a fine match.”

Fergus blew out a sigh of relief. His breath smelled of wine and his eyes seemed to have grown less focused in the short time since Emery had arrived.

“I had hoped you would approve,” he beamed at Emery and pulled her into a tight hug, not noticing her dazed expression. This was a disaster, how could she tell him now? She’d never seen him so excited. Emery wanted suddenly to flee from the tent and her brother’s smiles.

“Well, I cannot wait to meet her,” She said with false cheer, extricating herself from Fergus’ embrace.

“Oh! Of course, you will- and soon too” he said animatedly, “She arrives tomorrow."

“Tomorrow? How…wonderful,” Emery managed to force out, “I suspect you should get your rest then.”

She began to move to the exit but was stopped by Fergus.

“No Em, wait!” he said jovially, “You must stay! You and your wardens have to at least share a drink with me. We should be celebrating! Can you imagine mother’s reaction? Me, getting betrothed before you – she’ll be positively scandalized.”

Had she ever been so young and sure of herself? Emery felt sick. She turned to him with a pained smile,

“ No, dear brother. You must excuse me. I think I am over-tired from the journey. I will meet this Habren with you tomorrow."

And with that she fled the tent, pushing aside the flap violently.

Airard and Duncan quickly caught up. They walked in silence but Emery could feel Duncan’s gaze on her and knew that if she turned she would find his features infuriatingly filled with pity. Just before they entered the Grey Warden camp she could bear it no longer and turned violently to face him.

“Do you wish to say something Ser Duncan?” She whispered angrily. He took a moment to find the right words,

“Emery, I cannot imagine what you must be going through but-“

Her careful composure snapped for the first time and she turned to face him,

“Oh spare me your platitudes! What I did was cowardly and we both know it.”

Her expression was so feral, so unlike the dead-eyed politeness he'd become accustomed to, Duncan took a step back.

“I do not think that, “ He said carefully, “ but I do think what you are doing is unwise- you should tell Fergus what happened.”

“Why?” She asked simply, suddenly exhausted, “Why should I not wait to tell him- nothing will change. My family will still be dead tomorrow and my- our home, will still be gone.”

Duncan was silent for a moment and Airard awkwardly cleared his throat.

“All the same,” Duncan said finally, “ he will be upset knowing that you delayed in telling him the news.”  
  
Emery waved her hand at him dismissively and scoffed.

“He’s my little brother. I’m used to him being angry at me,” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, “Maker, he’s so young - and he thinks he is in love!”

She threw up her hands in exasperation, “I just want him to have one more good day. And then I will… I’ll tell him tomorrow. Until then, you and your men are to keep the news of Highever to themselves.”

“Very well,” said Duncan tiredly, “But all the same your Joining ritual will take place tonight.”

Emery looked up at him, startled. During their journey, he had mentioned that there would be some kind of ceremony or test before she could be counted as a full warden but he’d been vague on the details.

“Tonight? Must it really be so soon?”

“Now that we confirmed the safety of your brother,” Duncan said, “ There can be no delay. Levreth has already been sent to gather the necessary materials. No doubt he will return soon- the ritual does not take long to prepare.”

-

The three drew close to the Warden’s camp in silence. Before they could enter, however, they were stopped by two soldiers. The firelight glinted off their silverite mail and Emery caught sight of the Royal Crest adorning their chest-plates. The men bowed to Duncan.

“Commander,“ began the shorter of the two, “His Royal Highness, King Cailan, calls for Lady Emery Cousland right away.”

Duncan stifled a groan and nodded. Time was short and he needed to get on with the Joining but he could not refuse Cailan.

“The ritual will take place upon your return,” He said to Emery, who only nodded. She and the King’s soldiers departed. Airard and Duncan stood in silence for a few moments, watching them go.

“Would you like me to follow her at a distance?” Airard asked, turning to Duncan.

“No,” he replied.

“But you still believe she is in danger?”

To this, Duncan said nothing.

Eventually, they sat down in the empty Warden camp. The rest of the men had been sent to a ruined amphitheatre to await the joining ritual. Both Wardens were deep in thought until Airard spoke.

“Duncan,” he began carefully, “I think you should let her go- release her from the Wardens.”

“You know I cannot,” he said, tiredly.

“Yes, you can. Our plans failed when Bryce died. You think she’s somehow a substitute but she isn’t,” Airard stood up and began to pace restlessly, “I…I fear her father was killed because of us, and now we are making her a target- just as we did Bryce.”

Before either could say anything more footsteps sounded and Alistair entered the glow of the fire, concern marring his features.

“Alistair,” Duncan greeted him.  
“I came to find you,” the young warden began, “Everything’s been prepared.”

“Thank you. We only await our new recruit- she is with the King currently,” Duncan said and then noticed Alistair’s expression, “Is there something bothering you?”

“Oh don’t know,” Alistair told him with false cheer, “It could be that tomorrow we’re all set to march into a stinking pit in search of some darkspawn- or maybe it’s the fact that we’re all about to go through with a joining ritual- with only one person, who is a girl-”

He stopped short and grew serious, “There’s a good chance she might not make it. That should really improve morale for tomorrow.”

Duncan and Airard sighed in unison - he had a point. Undertaking a Joining Ritual with only one candidate was unusual and generally only happened in times of emergency.

“I’ve travelled with Emery since we left Highever and from what I’ve seen I think she’ll pull through,” Duncan reassured after a moment, “She’s strong-willed.”

Duncan often had good instincts when it came to such things but Alistair wasn’t convinced, and he wasn’t the only one. After Airard had gotten hold of the story from Duncan, the circumstances of Emery’s enlistment had quickly spread through the Warden camp during the night. The devastation of her family and fortunes made for a compelling tale and the Wardens who listened all shook their heads in sympathy. It did not help that she was a waif of a thing either. All in all, the Wardens were finding their trust in their Commander stretched thin by what they thought was a baffling choice of candidate.

“Just go back and tell the rest of the men it shouldn’t be much longer,” Airaid told him. Alistair looked as if he was about it leave but stopped.

“That’s not all” he admitted, sighing, “I heard what you were saying before I arrived. Well, at least the end of it- the bit about Bryce Cousland being killed because of us. That’s her father, right? Hhargren told me what happened to her family before she came here.”

Airard and Duncan glanced at each other before telling Alistair to sit down.  
  
“Before you think of repeating what was said out of context, perhaps its best we explain,” Duncan said to him, Airard shot him a warning glance but Duncan ignore him, ”I’ve known Bryce for many years- I fought with him a long time ago. He’s always respected the Grey Wardens and was…sympathetic to our recent problems.”

“Problems?” queried Alistair, “You mean the fact that there are so few Wardens about these days?”

“Yes,” Airard answered, “The Grey Wardens are dwindling, but that’s just a symptom of something greater. We are no longer held high regard with the people. It’s been so long since there was a blight- they’ve forgotten why they need us. We’re losing our foothold in this country.”

“There’s more,” Duncan began, “After Soldier’s Peak the Wardens have been regarded with suspicion by most of the noble class. Bryce was different. Many years ago I offered him a place in the Wardens, he considered it an honour but refused because of his duties as Teyrn. Recently, I approached him again with the same offer-”

“Surely he must have been quite old by now…” Alistair interrupted but trailed off as he put it all together, “You didn’t mean for him to do any fighting, did you?- you needed him for his political ties and you think someone wasn't too happy about the possibility of that happening.”

"Precisely," Duncan said tiredly. "That was why I travelled to Highever- Bryce had agreed to join us. He knew what he was getting into, though- knew we intended him to be a political asset. He'd fulfilled his duties to Highever and believed Emery fit to be named Teyrna. If he had been made Warden- yes, he might have given up his title but the friendships and allegiances he'd built up as Teyrn would still be there. Not to mention his daughter would be one of the most powerful people in the country.”

Alistair considered these words. The elf grew circumspect for a moment and then angry,

"How is she a substitute for her father? You know I've never been completely in favour of this plan and now it seems lost. The Teyrn was to be seen to joining us willingly-If Emery is forced into our ranks her resentment will do nothing to help our cause with the other high-born. Her father was well-loved- which was the whole point. Forcefully recruiting Emery when she hasn't that affection and support behind her will put us in a worse situation than before. It will look like a grab for power."

Duncan watched Airard as he finished. His expression thoughtful.

"It is not lost. Emery's more loved by the people than you, and likely she even realises- even just by the merit of being her father's heir. Also, she is clever- and she cares for people more than she lets on. Despite her...difficulties, I know once she is shown the necessity of our existence and recovers from her family's tragedy she'll be more agreeable. There is much of her father in her- his goodness and sense of duty. She won't disappoint him- or me."

"You risk much but you've no guarantee of this!"

The elf's words ended on an exasperated huff. Duncan said nothing more for the moment. Alistair thought the lieutenant may have a point but he found it impossible not to trust Duncan.

Despite his world-weary tone and the tired set of his shoulders, the Commander's eyes were clear and intelligent- there was a wisdom behind them too. It was the same steady gaze Alistair had looked to since the day he'd met Duncan and not once had the man led him wrong.

"And here I thought Grey Wardens were supposed to remain neutral when it came to politics," he said quietly to which his Commander laughed bitterly.

"An admirable notion. Perhaps in better times it would be easier," he mused, " But what would you have me do? Let the wardens dwindle? Let our order stagnate in disrepute. As Commander, I must leave behind something of a future for us- with strong allies and leadership.”

A sad and fearful look passed between Airard and Duncan.

"-Wait" Alistair interrupted, missing the exchange, "You mean you want her to be some kind of leader?"

"Perhaps one day."

Airard and Alistair let out perfectly synchronized scoffs of incredulity. Duncan showed a soft, smile- both sad and affectionate.

“Why did you tell me this?” Alistair asked, breaking a moment of silence. At his words, Duncan looked thoughtful for a second before answering.

“Alistair, I...I trust you,” he said, “And more than that I wanted you to know that it wasn’t some cruel whim that had me recruit Emery. From here on you’ll be spending a lot of time with her. Help her see the necessity of the wardens, help her make peace with all that has happened. In her eyes I will always be the man who dragged her from her father’s side, but you could be a friend to her.”

Alistair couldn’t think of a reply. He had never seen Duncan so weary and Airard so stern. The light had faded completely now. The three wardens waited in silence.

-

The walk to the King’s tent had been long and awkwardly quiet. The two soldiers had flanked Emery and escorted her through the camp. When the men arrived, delaying the cryptic Warden ritual, she had initially been relieved. However, as she drew closer to the large tent she assumed belonged to the King she‘d grown nervous.

Emery had seen King Cailan from a distance but hadn’t met him personally. Her trips outside Highever had been limited and strictly chaperoned. She had only ever attended official and ceremonial gatherings which usually placed her amongst a crowd of nobles, apart from the royal party.

In recent months, however, her parents seemed to have loosened her leash so to speak, allowing her to attend parties and festivals if she so wished. Their intentions were obvious- every conversation she’d had with them in the past few months had been about marriage.

The escorts stopped in front of a large tent. A tall woman in heavy plate with a square jaw and fiery orange hair pulled aside the flap for her. Emery took a second to straighten her tunic, glancing self-consciously at the women who paid her only a stern but otherwise blank glance. Her escorts held aside the tent-flap and she stepped through.

The interior was well-lit and warm- almost hot. The furnishings were lush and food and thick furs and silks seemed draped over every surface. Emery didn't have time to consider the decor too thoroughly as her eyes were quickly drawn to a heavy oaken table draped with an unfurled map over which two men argued. They looked up a moment after she had entered.

One- blond, handsome and broad-shouldered- Emery knew was King Cailan. The other she quickly recognized as Teyrn Loghain. Both men were dressed finely- Cailan dripping with furs and tassels and all manner of glinting jewels. Emery noticed that although Loghain wore a more practical and plain ensemble the quality of the fabric, and skill of the tailor was evident. After spending many an afternoon as a child studying Ferelden history, meeting the legendary general was no small matter. Emery silently considered their appearances. Loghain's pallid complexion and dark, sunken eyes suggested that he spent little time outdoors in daylight. Alternatively, Calain was tanned and glowed with youth and good health.

She faced the King and curtsied deeply.

“Your Highness,” she said before turning to Loghain and doing the same, “Your Grace.”

“Lady Emery,“ Cailan said kindly, “It is a pleasure. Would that we had met in better circumstances, but I called you here to give my condolences.”

Emery felt herself grow still.

“Yes, it is indeed a tragedy,” Loghain drawled, “You have my sympathies.”

Something about Loghain’s accent set her teeth on edge and he looked at her like she was some kind of offal he’d just spotted on his boot.

“Rest assured,” Cailan began, “After these darkspawn are cleared I will see to it personally that the murder of your mother and father is investigated and those responsible brought to justice.”

"Is there any news from the north? Any clues as to exactly what happened?" Emery asked, head bowed.

"I'm afraid news has been unreliable of late. Messengers have been taking longer routes, it seems that the old ones are no longer safe- particularly those passing close to the-"

Loghain cleared his throat, interrupting Cailan. The general gave the King a meaningful look that was tinged with exasperation. Cailan clamped his mouth shut.

"I have been told that you are to join the wardens," He said after a beat.  
"A great privilege," Loghain stated sourly.

“Yes, your Grace,” Emery said, “ It was my father’s dying request that I join the Wardens.”

“Request?” scoffed Loghain, “Didn’t your Warden Commander only agree to escort you to safety upon the condition that you be sold to the Wardens.”

Emery flushed with humiliation at Loghain’s unkind but nonetheless accurate summary of events. She wondered how he was so well-informed. Cailan laughed awkwardly,

“Nevermind that,” he said, trying to salvage the conversation, “I’m sure things worked out as they should. It is after all an honour to join the Grey Wardens.”

Emery wanted to say that if he thought it so great then he could take her place.

“Really, Cailan, I’d hoped you’d outgrown your obsession with myths and legends- you must attend to reality,” said Loghain. And with that, the two men seemed to enter an argument regarding the upcoming expedition. Emery tried to remain silent and unimposing during their exchange but when she heard Cailan’s plans, she couldn’t help herself,

“Your Highness, you’re planning to accompany the wardens into the caves?” she blurted out. The conversation between Loghain and Cailan ceased as they seemed to remember she was still there,

“ Ah, yes,” said Cailan, “Loghain and Duncan seem to both think this is too dangerous, but I am not convinced. From what we have gathered it seems to be just a few random darkspawn. To be honest, I had hoped for a Blight- like in the tales,” he sighed and shrugged. Emery was unsure how exactly to respond to this- perhaps Cailan had not been told the same “tales” as she had.

The silence stretched in the tent before Calain spoke again.

“Perhaps I will fight alongside you tomorrow, Lady Emery,” he said, “Your initiation is tonight, is it not?”

Emery took the hint that she was being dismissed excused herself politely, thanking the King and the Teyrn. She exited the tent and allowed herself to be escorted back to the Grey Warden camp. The meeting with the King had shaken her somewhat. It’d been easy before to think of people like Cailan and Loghain to be somehow more than mere men. Meeting them, however, brought about the realization that they were just people like her- it was not a comforting epiphany.

-  
  
The king’s soldiers disappeared as soon as they’d deposited Emery back in the company of the Wardens. As they led her to the Joining, the mood amidst Alistair, Airard and Duncan was depressingly sombre which did nothing to allay Emery’s nerves.

They stood at the threshold of a crumbling amphitheatre lit by a few flaming torches and entered. Entering the ruin Emery saw that the rest of the wardens had assembled and she realized how few of them there were. They stood in a loose circle which she was directed to stand in the centre of. Alistair took a spot amongst the other wardens and Airard and Duncan disappeared.

There was no turning back now, Emery thought. She’d be giving up a lot - her claim to Highever, her noble status, her friends and her easy life. Perhaps she should jump at the chance to start over with the wardens and leave her old life behind in ashes, but she couldn’t find it in herself. She would always be her father’s daughter and would always be loyal to Highever, Teyrna or not. The only thing she could do now was ensure that Fergus readied himself to take her place and continue their family’s legacy and rule.

Duncan returned with Airard who was holding a large silver goblet. They entered the circle and faced Emery.

“Tonight we welcome a sister into our ranks, Emery of Highever,” Airard said, omitting her title.

"But first she must be submitted to the taint," Duncan announced and the Warden grew still. Airard handed her the silver goblet. The smell that wafted from its contents caused bile to rise in her throat. She looked into the goblet and saw its contents - blood? But it was a darker than any other she'd seen – almost black.

"What is this?" she asked, "Blood?"

Airard only nodded.

"The only way to become a Warden is to imbibe the blood of our enemy. We take the taint into our own bodies and use its power to fight them," said Duncan. Emery reeled momentarily at his words,

"This is...darkspawn blood. Are you insane?" she asked sincerely, looking around the circle. She waited for one of the Wardens to announce suddenly that they were having her on- that it was a joke, but everyone remained silent. "I'm no healer, and I'm no expert on darkspawn," Emery continued, " But surely this is dangerous.”

"Yes, not all survive the Joining," Duncan stated simply, the torches seemed to flare momentarily and Emery was struck speechless.

This changed everything- how was she supposed to help her brother if she was dead? Her plans dissolved to dust. Duncan continued to speak, "I remind you that this was what your father agreed to- he placed you in my care - promised you as a Warden.”

Emery was suddenly angry, ready to hit the man. She shoved the goblet back into Airard's hands, some of its contents sloshing over the rim.

"How dare you," she spat out, quiet but vicious, "If there's anyone who's going back on any promises or deals, it's you. You agreed to keep me safe and alive. Surely this insane ritual runs contrary to that? My father never would have agreed had he known the risks.”

Duncan appeared slightly taken aback at her outburst but addressed her sternly, "He did what he thought was best.”

That was it then. Emery knew she couldn't walk away- for the sake of her family's honour she could not back out of this promise. And oh, he I knew she realized, Duncan knew of her family's reputation - that a Cousland was taught to never refuse or shirk their duty.

"Fine," she bit out quietly and took back the goblet from Airard.

It didn't matter. There was no way she'd let this kill her. She refused. She wouldn't let herself die - couldn't let herself.

Before any of them could say otherwise Emery drained the cup's contents and threw it to the stone floor. She rather hoped she'd dented the damned thing. Then Emery stormed out of the circle, pushing past the wardens, making it three steps before she fell to her knees.

It felt as if she was suddenly burning and freezing simultaneously and she clutched her stomach as her insides twisted into knots. Her vision blurred and she heard the other wardens' far-away shouts. Silent blackness engulfed Emery as she passed out and hit the stone floor with a jarring thud.

 

 


	3. Warden

 

_It was a song, she realised- but nothing like she’d ever heard before. The beat was frantic and jarring and it throttled her bones. She felt her sternum vibrate in answer to the moaning bass. There was no melody but eery notes muddled together and bounced off of each other in a way that seemed intentional - like it was trying to tell her something, something important. The harsh notes plucked at something deep within her, reaching, pushing, crawling. Everything was shifting, first the blackness around her- then she felt herself shift too. There was an instant of pain so acute that the weight of time seemed packed and honed into the point of a needle that pierced the last barriers of her resistance. Something in her gave way, screaming as it did._

 

_The song trickled down to her soul and made it tremble Her life, her body seemed further and further away. And then it was gone. she had nothing - no body, no tether. She was nothing.  She forgot all of who she was - she had no home, no memory and no name._

 

_She was sinking and sinking into the sound._

 

**“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.”**

**― Friedrich Nietzsche**

 

Emery awoke to a hammering headache and a foul taste in her mouth. She’d only suffered a few hangovers in her life but it was the closest thing she had to compare to the way she felt.  She shifted where she lay, trying to work out the ache in her muscles.

 

Conversation drifted to her as she became more aware of her surroundings. Emery opened her eyes and sat up. She was back in the Warden camp. The light made her eyes water for a second and she took a moment to appreciate that despite her nightmares, and despite the ritual, she was still alive. Truthfully, she had little memory of what transpired after the joining - the abominable after-taste the darkspawn blood left was the only indication that it had not merely been another bad dream.

 

The dim light of dawn was just beginning to creep in and it was freezing. All the wardens were gone save Hhargren and the mage- whom she remembered was called Levreth. The two men huddled over the cooking pot and seemed to be avidly watching its contents. Their breath puffed out before them as they spoke, a testament to the coldness of the morning air. Levreth turned to her, noticing she was awake.

 

" Morning, warden," He said.

 

" Er, and to you," Emery croaked and then blinked. She was Grey Warden now, it seemed. She remembered the man from the previous day but up close it was difficult to avoid noting how handsome he was. He wore mage robes which Emery was too unfamiliar with to find attractive - rather it was his unkempt russet hair and striking amber eyes that she noticed.

 

As if aware of her admiration the mage grinned widely. Emery sighed, any attraction immediately trickling away at the sight of Levreth's smug expression.

 

"I feel foul," she announced with an unladylike groan. She ran her tongue over her teeth which had seemingly sprouted fur overnight. Levreth considered her with amusement.

 

" Darkspawn blood. Nasty stuff- am I right?"

 

The mage took a second to rummage in a satchel before tossing her a flask. She caught it and took a hearty swig before violently coughing and spluttering when the liquid hit her throat. It seemed to be stripping her insides away as it travelled to her belly. Hhargren immediately turned his attention from the food to her.

 

"I thought you were giving me water!" She choked, "what in Andraste's name is that stuff."

 

"Does it matter?" Levreth laughed, "It's for the after-taste"

 

"No kidding," she said, clutching her throat, "I don't think I'll be able to taste anything ever again.”

 

"It’s not that bad," Hhagren laughed.

 

"Perhaps it was a bit much for our genteel noble," added Levreth.

 

"We were just talking about that - you’re a Cousland. Going to be nice to have someone classy around for a change. We’re all whoresons and bastards," Hhargren said before laughing again.

 

"Good to see everyone's awake," said Airard cheerfully as he entered. Alistair followed at his heels. "Time to pack up- we're assembling in the amphitheatre before we head to the caverns."

 

The other wardens quickly acquiesced to the order, conversing lightly as they worked. Emery remained silent, not sure exactly how she was to fit into the group.

 

She felt more than a little awkward after her outburst at the joining ritual, though she still held onto her ire. She felt different somehow- wrong. It was a wrongness apart from losing her family, her lands and the world she had known. Something fundamental had shifted within her, or was shifting. It was not a comfortable state of being.

 

Before they were finished clearing up everything, Airard took Emery aside and handed her a bulky package filled with two simple, but well-made daggers and a new set of armour.

 

"Here," he told her, "Your old set was barely serviceable.”

 

"Thank-you," said Emery, surprised, but Airard waved her off dismissively,

 

"We don't expect new recruits to arm themselves," he stated, "And it'll all be put to good use in the next few days, trust me.”

 

Emery swallowed nervously. After the attack on Highever, she'd been forced to admit to herself that perhaps she might not be cut out to be a warrior.  Wits and desperation - not courage, are what had truthfully gotten her through the battle. Prior to that night, though she would have boasted herself quite proficient, and foolishly so.

 

From a young age she'd petulantly demanded to be taught how to fight and Bryce, ever the doting father, had patiently seen to her desires. But now she saw how selective that education had been. She'd been taught the moves, the parries and blocks but no one had discussed with her what any of it meant. Drills and sparring had been nothing more than a game to her- something to be good at. They had taught her how to fight without ever intending her to do harm, and she'd learnt without ever thinking she would one day need to defend her life. Fighting had been about winning not killing.

 

As she witnessed the camp being dismantled she realised that everything seemed to be happening very fast. After the wardens had finished they were all told to don their battle-gear. She stood amongst a band of male warriors, holding her amour and knives for an awkward moment before excusing herself. She hoped the bushes offered some modicum of privacy in which to change. Both upon departure and return she was of course treated to several lewd suggestions courtesy of Levreth.

 

Her new armour was stiff and pinched a bit but was otherwise a surprisingly good fit. She'd seen better workmanship but it was finer quality than she suspected the Wardens could afford given the state of the rest of their equipment. It was also real armour - not leathers for hunting or riding - this gear was meant for battle. Emery withheld a shudder.

 

The daggers were also fair quality, if a little blunt, and she wondered how much Duncan had told Airard and the other wardens of her training,  obviously enough to know that she dual-wielded weapons.

 

Her thoughts turned to her father's sword, now that was a quality blade- exquisite, well balanced (perhaps a bit heavy). Suddenly she felt a deep sense or repulsion, though she wasn’t sure it was the idea of unearthing the stained blade that alarmed her or the realization that she would likely soon face combat. Bile rose in her throat and her last night in Highever flashed before her- all the blood, gore and killing. She felt herself begin to sweat and stifled her anxiety as best she could.

 

She forced her chin up to stare at the rest of the Wardens, doing everything she could to banish the bloody images from her mind and quiet her frantic heartbeat. Thankfully they soon departed and she tried to let the task of walking occupy her mind.

 

As they drew closer to their destination they were joined by a stream of nobles who had supposedly awoken to see the expedition off. Emery almost jumped out of her skin when a firm hand grabbed her shoulder,  she wheeled around was met with a familiar face.

 

"Frederick," she greeted him, surprised and a bit shaken. Frederick was a Fergus' closest friend, they had practically grown up together and were often mistaken for brothers. If he was here it meant that Fergus was surely close-by. Were she to see him now she'd have to explain everything to him- her family's demise, the wardens, Fergus' new status as Teyrn. Emery's breakfast curdled in her stomach.

 

"Emery?" Frederick said, shocked, "By the Maker! I thought that was you- why are you dressed like that? You look as if you mean to join the fighting. Is that really proper? You can't be…" he trailed off before finally asking, "Does Fergus know about this?"

 

Emery wasn't sure how to answer him. Luckily, it seemed, Alistair stepped in,

 

"Excuse me Ser," He said to Frederick tightly, " But we must be on our way.”

 

Without giving him a chance to reply he dragged Emery forward by her hand to follow the other wardens who hadn't stopped to wait for them. They slowly weaved through the throng, trying to reach Airard and the others.

 

"What was that for?" Emery said indignantly, trying her best to ignore Alistair's vice grip on her hand.

 

" I think the phrase you're searching for is 'thank-you'," He said smartly.

 

" Frederick is a friend."

 

" Mmm hmm, sure, okay," Alistair said condescendingly, "And I suppose that's why you looked like someone kicked your puppy when you saw him.”

 

Emery had no reply to this instead she growled low in her throat and wrenched her hand out of his angrily.

 

The two wardens entered the amphitheatre and Emery, catching sight of  Duncan and Airard, made her way speedily to them with nary a backward glance to see if Alistair was following.

 

Levreth and Duncan seemed to be concluding a serious conversation when she drew near. Duncan dismissed Levreth who quickly turned from the wardens and left, almost colliding with Emery on his way to the exit.

 

" Where are you going?" asked Emery, annoyed.

 

" It's a top secret mission, beautiful," He said, grinning, "Although I might be tempted to surrender a few details…for a kiss.”

 

"I see you've been hitting the lyrium a bit too hard, mage," she told him curtly.

 

Wardens. She had yet to meet a single one that didn't infuriate her.

 

"My Lady, you wound me! As much as I enjoy flirting with pretty girls, well, I have places to go, monsters to kill…"

 

"And maidens to deflower?" added Alistair helpfully as he approached, looking none too happy at being left behind.

 

"That too," grinned Levreth. He winked devilishly at Emery before turning and heading toward the exit. The swathe of nobles saw his crooked staff marking him a mage and gave him a wide berth.

 

Emery and Alistair stood and watched him go.

 

" You know I've yet to come across a mage who isn't a philandering crackpot," Alistair said, mostly to himself.

 

" From what I've heard of the Circle I suppose they have to take their fun where they can get it."

* * *

It seemed to take forever for anything to happen. Maker’s arse but she hate waiting. Emery silently sat amongst some of the other wardens trying not to ignore Alistair's jokes. Blessedly the other wardens seemed to ignore her. The crowd of nobles, on the other hand, stared at them unashamedly and only after what seemed like hours did Duncan appear.

 

"Wardens, the King is on his way. We are to ready ourselves to descend into the caverns.”

 

Everyone donned grim expression. Emery felt her stomach lurch at the thought of the upcoming battle. The Wardens checked over their weapons and assembled in a loose column. Before Alistair and Emery could join them Duncan interceded.

 

"You two won't be accompanying the expedition," He said matter-of-factly. Emery felt the knot in her gut loosen in relief.

 

"What?" asked Alistair surprised, "We're not going with you?"

 

"I need the two of you to patrol The Wilds," Duncan said calmly and handed Alistair a tattered map. "We will be in the caverns and the Kings is only leaving a small force of soldiers to defend the camp. You're not missing out, I'm sure you'll run into a few fights out there, not to worry.”

 

Emery sensed Alistair's disappointment but he seemed more upset at being left behind than missing the fighting.

 

"Very well," he sighed, "I suppose all of you should only be gone for a few days.”

 

He unfurled the ageing vellum and scanned the patrol routes Duncan had drawn in.

 

"Yes," Duncan agreed, "I don't think it will take long. Once we find where these caves join with the Deep Roads the circle mages will collapse those tunnels.”

 

Duncan turned to Emery, his expression was suddenly tired.

 

"I have not had a chance to welcome you properly to the Grey Wardens, Emery. For that I am sorry. I suspect that after your Joining you do not think of us- especially me, too kindly. When I return I will explain many things that may help you understand…" he trailed off, " In the meantime, Alistair will look after you.”

 

Nearby Emery heard a trumpet sound. "The King approaches" noted Duncan, " I must take my leave."

 

"Maker be with you Duncan," Alistair said sincerely and Emery saw Duncan's face soften.

 

"Maker be with us all," he replied and grasped Alistair's shoulder affectionately before turning and leaving.

 

Emery stiffened, something about Duncan's expression had gnawed at her memory and then she remembered -  her father used to look at her in much the same way. She was suddenly filled with a wave of homesickness and longing so strong it seemed a physical ache. Guiltily she realized that she’d barely thought of them since arriving at Ostagar. How could she be so insensitive to joke and bicker casually after what had happened? Her thoughts tumbled into a tirade of self-deprecating reprimands.

 

"Emery- Emery?" queried Alistair before waving a hand in front of her eyes, breaking her out of her solemn reverie. She looked up at him. "Are you, all right? " he asked, "You seemed to, I don't know- disappear for a second.”

 

Emery wasn't able to answer Alistair as all conversation in the vicinity abruptly ceased when Cailan made his entrance.

 

Alistair had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. The kindest thing you could say about Cailan's armour is that it was "flashy". The whole set looked as if it had been dipped in gold and caught the light so it shone like a second sun.

 

"It's a bit…much. Isn't it?" said Emery sourly.

 

"At least he'll be easy to find in the dark," answered Alistair, amused.

 

"I suspect for the darkspawn as much as anyone else."

 

Cailan preceded to launch into a speech about glory and honour to which Emery paid little attention. Instead, she scanned the crowd to try and locate her brother. The very idea that he was here made her sweat nervously but she didn't want to be caught by surprise as she had with Frederick. She quietly arranged and rehearsed different explanations to Fergus in her head but every situation she could imagine led to him in angry tears.

 

Alistair listened to Cailan's words and had to furiously suppress the urge to share his own snide remarks with Emery. Her moods were so erratic and difficult to predict. If he was honest she put him on edge- if he was really honest, she scared him a bit. It wasn't the stormy scowl she seemed to wear almost permanently in his presence. Nor was it the spectacular temper he knew she possessed which, even when not on display, could be seen simmering ominously close to the surface. Sometimes, such as now, her face wore a dark and haunted countenance that he had no idea how to deal with and no interest in prodding at.

 

He did not understand her, and more the point, he didn’t think he wanted to.  True, he could not deny his sympathy for her circumstances and he was kind by nature, but he doubted he would ever call her a friend. Everything he knew about her - the title, the wealth, the distinguished lineage - told him that she was exactly the type of person he could never get along with. No matter what Duncan might hope or believe. And even with all that aside, he couldn’t abide, or even understand, her apparent disdain, nay hatred, for Duncan - the most loyal, honourable and good person he’d ever known.

 

Emery stood next to Alistair, watching Cailan and the nobles with an inscrutable expression. Ladies swooned and waved handkerchiefs as the King and the Wardens departed. Emery herself found the whole scene ridiculous and hoped to escape it as soon as possible. Particularly considering that she could not spot Fergus and thus had little reason to linger. Thankfully Alistair had the same idea and Emery soon found herself following him through the noble's camp.

 

She was surprised when he led her away from the camp and they left Ostagar behind them. Alistair told her that they would enter the Wilds and begin their patrol immediately. They had little need for provisions as they would be returning before nightfall and had armed themselves at camp with the intention of entering the caverns with the other wardens. Emery had heard much about the Korcari Wilds, most of it she was sure were old-wives tales or yarns spun by over-zealous travellers looking for an audience. All she really expected to face was a foul-smelling bog and some nasty mosquitos.

* * *

Duncan watched as Cailan stood before the threshold of a foul-smelling cavern practically vibrating with excitement. The troops had paused to do last-minute weapons and supplies check. The cheering crowd of Ostagar had been left behind and there was little bravado amongst the soldiers now- none at all amongst the wardens. Duncan was relieved at this, the fewer men who believed glory and fame were won in the Deeproads, the better.

 

Despite the seriousness of the task ahead, he found his thoughts lingering on their newest Warden. He’d made a right mess of things. The taint was pressing down on him, his Calling drew near and this had made him rash. He felt he needed to leave the Wardens in a better state then he’d found them, but this...what had gone wrong? Duncan knew now that he should have waited till after he returned from the caverns to conduct the Joining ceremony. Emery needed time - time enough to grieve, to set her affairs right and most importantly to be shown why the Wardens were important. Perhaps it was because he saw so much of Bryce in her, perhaps he expected her to react to everything like her father and had forgotten that she was also a frightened and very young woman.

 

He sighed loudly. It wasn’t too late he assured himself, he would mend things.  

 

“Everything is in order, my friend,” said Cailan, clapping him on his shoulder and startling Duncan out of his thoughts with the tinny jangle of armour-hitting-amour.

 

“Very good, your Highness. I await your order to set off. Say your goodbyes to the sun and sky, it may be a few days yet till we see them again”.

 

With that Cailan gave the order to move and the company began to march forward, slowly but purposefully. Their feet took them downhill into a great cavern that smelled of death.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Next Chapter will be up on Thursday. Please review and let me know what you think:)


	4. Departure

 

**"...Hushed lie the sedges, and the vapours creep,  
** **Thick, grey and humid, while the marshes sleep."**

" Marshlands" by Emily Pauline Johnson

 

 

Emery's predictions turned out to be right on target. The Wilds were indeed a cold, dank marshland full of mosquitos and little else. Strange plants and algae were everywhere and it felt as if a layer of something green and slimy coated everything in the vicinity. Even though it was the middle of the day and the sun was at its peak, the light seemed dim.

But out in the open Emery felt lighter, more herself. There was space to breathe and space to think, and as they marched deeper into the wilderness she thought the change of scenery a welcome improvement. After the bustle of Ostagar, the silence of the Wilds was a shock - but not unwelcome.

The further they pulled away from the noble's camp, the more relieved Emery felt. She had not realized the extent to which her inevitable discussion with Fergus was affecting her- whenever she thought of what to say to him an aching lump filled her stomach. She knew that postponing it was only causing her more anxiety. Guiltily, she allowed herself to bask in the peace the wilderness brought her as well as appreciate the reprieve it granted from the immediacy of her task.

They had hiked in relative silence for a few hours. Alistair seemed withdrawn, which she suspected was uncharacteristic of him. She tried not to let it bother her. If he didn't want to speak to her then all the better, she thought. She steeled her resolved to not be the one to cave to the silence.

Her resolution soon faltered. And then it failed. For whatever reason- boredom, curiosity at his reticence, (or perhaps indignation at his disinterest in her conversation) she decided to speak.

"How long have you been a Grey Warden?" It was the first question that had come into her mind.

Alistair stopped walking for a second and then continued to trudge on in silence. For a moment Emery thought he would ignore her but he answered eventually,

"Only a few months," he told her.

"Did you also have to drink darkspawn blood?" she inquired further, nose wrinkling at the memory. Alistair was amused.

"Of course. As far as I know, it is the only way to become a warden."

"So how'd they get you? Extortion? Trickery? Or did they just go ahead and spike your ale when you weren't looking?"

At this, he laughed.

"It might be difficult to believe for someone of your, uh…background? But the life of a warden is an improvement for some- it's also kind of an honour, or at least it used to be."

A wry smile twitched traitorously at Emery's lips. He had neatly avoided answering her question, maybe he was craftier than he let on, but she doubted it. It was true that all the Wardens, perhaps beside herself, appeared to be skilled warriors. But if it was such an "honour" to be a warden why then did their ranks seem to consist solely of people who had nowhere else to go?

"I heard many stories about the wardens when I was a child," she said, "But I never thought I'd be one. And stories are one thing, of course the reality ended up being a lot different."

Emery sighed, suddenly feeling deflated.

"Are you ashamed?"Alistair asked, "To be a warden?"

The question was so unexpected that Emery stopped in her tracks.

"What makes you ask that?" she was sincerely perplexed. Alistair seemed to grow uncomfortable.

"Maybe 'ashamed' is the wrong word…Okay, do you feel like being a warden is less than you deserve? Wait, no. That sounded worse."

His brows knit as he thought, "…Anyway, you seemed on edge in the camp- and you were eager to leave. I just got the feeling that you didn't want to be recognized."

His words ruffled her, she wasn't aware she'd been under such close scrutiny. If she were to be truthful then maybe, yes, a small part of her might feel like being a warden was beneath her somehow- she was meant to be Teyrna. It was foolish, she knew so, but somehow she felt as if she'd failed. If being a Grey Warden was about doing good and helping people - if that's what mattered…then she could have done a lot more as Teyrna of Highever.

Emery clamped down on another sigh. Avoiding the camp, though, that was about Fergus and about having to explain to people what had brought her to the Wardens.

"Well it's true," she began stiffly, "About not wanting to be recognized. I'm acquainted with a lot of people there that I'd like to avoid- not because I'm ashamed of being a Warden, rather because the story behind it is…unpleasant".

Alistair could have kicked himself, of course this was about her family. He'd brought it up and now probably ruined her uncharacteristically good mood. Earlier he'd been too mired in his own worries about Duncan and the others to really notice that Emery was in better spirits than he'd seen her. For the first time since they had met, she'd initiated a conversation and he'd noticed that she seemed less hostile than usual. Now he'd gone and reminded her about her dead family. He congratulated himself once again on his brilliant social-skills.

He'd first heard of what had happened after his disastrous introduction to her. He had a habit of saying the wrong thing and making a fool of himself but that particular incident was one he would agonize over for a while yet. Hhargren had taken him aside afterwards and explained that Duncan had recruited her after her household had been murdered. Now he felt dreadful for bringing it up and hoped she would not slip back into her usual dark mood. In an effort to keep the conversation going he grasped desperately at the first thing that came to mind.

"You should wear your helmet," he blurted out, "That is for er, safety and if you don't want to be recognized."

He wrapped his knuckles on his own battered helmet as if to demonstrate his point. This, thought Emery, was a good idea - which was why it had already occurred to her. Unfortunately, she'd hit a snag,

"I did think of that but my helmet is ..." Emery trailed off, mumbling the last of the sentence so that the words were lost to Alistair.

"Your helmet is what now?"

"I said my helmet is too small," she admitted reluctantly. It took a second for it to sink in before Alistair started to laugh.

"Too small? Meaning your head is too large…meaning you have a big head."

"How did I know you would react this way?"

"What way? I'm merely stating what you pointed out yourself- You possess a big head. Perhaps we can ask some of your nobleman friends for advice when we get back to camp. I'm sure many of them share in the plight of the big-headed. Maybe they can recommend some merchants who sell extra-large helmets?"

"Oh be quiet. It's not my head that's the problem, it's my hair. There's too much of it and it gets in the way."

She patted her the voluminous coils pinned to her head self consciously. After hours in the marsh they were looking a bit worse for wear. Alistair chose to ignore what she had said and continued.

"Oh! Do you know who would probably be best to ask? – King Cailan. I reckon his head's huge. Might be the biggest head I've ever come across. You could ask to have one of his old helmets."

He sensed he might be taking things a bit far. He looked over to her and saw she was flushed with anger but before he could say anything else, an unpleasant sensation tickled at the back of his skull before sinking into his stomach.

Emery was on the verge of threatening physical harm if Alistair didn't shut up about her bloody helmet when she noticed he'd stopped dead in his tracks. His whole body tensed and he seemed to be listening for something or waiting. The mood in the air changed swiftly with his next words.

"Draw your weapons," said Alistair evenly, "There are darkspawn close by."

She did as she was told and tried to keep her hands from shaking. Her daggers left their scabbards with a deadly  _shhhk_. Alistair readied his shield and drew his sword. Emery noticed a change come over him - he was no longer the bumbling man she had been walking with for the past few hours, he now seemed cold and resolute. She tried to let it comfort her and gripped her daggers so tightly her palms ached.

A cold unease began to slither up her spine; every inch of her body seemed to be on alert. A terrible restlessness entered her limbs, it soaked into her muscles and her vision danced before her with such clarity it made her head ache.

They continued through the Wilds in silence, weapons readied. Bushes and tall reeds which appeared innocuous before now seemed to be potential hiding places for all manner of monsters. Each of her squelchy footfalls seemed to be alarmingly loud and she worried that creatures leagues away could deduce her exact position from the sound of her boots in the mud. Before long she noticed the creeping mist rising, snaking around her ankles and upward until she could no longer see where she was placing her steps.

The shadows loomed in the failing light, cold and frightened, she was about to ask Alistair how much longer till they reached camp when a snarl ripped through the air. And then they were under attack.

The smell struck her first, it was unlike anything she had experienced before - fetid and rich, layered with decay. It strangled the breath from her throat and her stomach churned in revolt. The nightmare came at her suddenly with a crude blade, its shape was like a man, almost, but its putrid flesh was grey and limp and covered in filth and gore. Its frothing maw was spiked with cruel teeth and something grey and viscous ran freely down its chin. It stared at her with wide, bulbous eyes and she knew there were no thoughts or intention behind the gaze. It was less than a beast, only one thing drove the creature; a kind of raw directionless rage, black and insatiable.

Highever's hall flashed before her and she smelled burning buildings and bodies, she remembered what flesh felt like when it gave way to a dagger. The smell of entrails and the coppery tang of blood seemed to fill her nose. The morning after Highever, still in her nightgown, she'd noticed her ankles were splashed with blood, it was congealed between her bare toes where it had not been worn off by the tread of her bare feet.

Her hands began to tingle strangely and everything in her seemed to constrict tightly into a space in the centre of her chest that seemed at once hot and cold and too-small.

Emery gasped for air as the darkspawn began to advance. She staggered back and fell beneath the layer of mist, hitting the dark mud. Scrabbling desperately away, she tried both to flee and find sturdy enough ground to stand again. She slipped and crawled through the sludge until she gracelessly found her feet again and stood. The darkspawn was still coming at her, staggering and growling in a manner unlike any animal she'd encountered. She heard her heartbeat thump fast and loud, it seemed to beat in her throat, and time slowed as the creature drew closer.

Though clogged and slippery with mud, by some miracle she still held her daggers- but it was useless. Her mind was wrung dry of every drop of knowledge and training she had ever received. She was frozen.

The darkspawn was only a few feet away and it raised its weapon, ready to cut her down- bam! Alistair's shield collided with its skull and the creature crumpled to the ground. Fluidly the warden plunged his sword into the mist and the darkspawn died with a hideous rasp.

Emery stood waiting for her hands to stop shaking and for her mind to regain control of her thoughts. She became dimly aware that Alistair was shouting at her and for once she was too much in shock to be annoyed at him.

"What exactly were you trying to do? Stare it to death?!" He yelled, although it was edged more with exasperation than anger.

"I-" she began but stopped. She hadn't been trying to do anything. She'd done nothing.

"Fine. Okay. Let's just keep moving," Alistair said, voice tipped with impatience. He turned and continued on, wiping the dark blood off his sword as he walked. He was cursing to himself lightly when Emery scrambled after him, careful to step over the three other darkspawn corpses Alistair had dispatched.

She'd never felt so utterly defeated and useless before. Anxiety gnawed at her gut mercilessly and she had to pinch her eyes shut briefly when a few scant tears that had welled up threatened to spill. She felt like a child.

Emery realised she had never been bad at anything before- never failed. Granted she was beginning see that her life had been significantly easier than she cared to admit to anyone out loud.

Alistair trudged through the mud and sulked. He felt bad for shouting at her. Then he felt annoyed that he felt bad, he shouldn't feel bad - should he? She'd endangered herself and him. Frankly, he was quite sure he didn't care for her in the least; she was grouchy, antisocial and snooty. Most probably, she even didn't like him either; likely she hated him as much as she did Duncan. Yes, he'd seen the way she glared at the commander when she thought no one was looking. And why not? In a short amount of time the girl had lost everything, including most of her family, and been forced to join the wardens...

Violently, he tried to clamp down on his sympathy for the girl. He didn't want to feel sorry for her. That she was finally inducted into reality where hardships and sadness were present for everyone did not merit sympathy or special treatment. Up until recently, she'd had it all - wealth, a title, a family who loved her.

Her presence behind him was palpable and he could feel the unease and gloom radiating off her in dim blue waves. He tried and he tried, but he couldn't let things be. It was intolerable that her mood bothered him so.

He cleared his throat.

"We should be getting back to camp soon," Alistair said stiffly and then stopped, unsure what else to say.

"Good," Emery replied a little forcefully.

Fine. Okay. She was back to her good old, bad-tempered self. That suited him well enough. If she was unwilling to talk to him about what had just occurred then all the better for his own nerves. As soon as Duncan got back he would have a talk with him. It was unconscionable to let her continue as is. She should be trained or instructed - or something.

He heard a strange  _glunk_  sound behind him and turned to see Emery sheathing one of her mud-encrusted daggers. Off to her left something unidentifiable sank into green pond scum.

She was wearing her helmet and rough-cut dark wisps peeked out unevenly from under the rim. She'd cut her hair. He was speechless.

The daggers could have been sharper Emery thought, but it it was done. She'd allowed herself only a short moment to consider her amputated braids as they'd flown through the air like black snakes. She'd thrown them to the bog and that was that.

"See? Perfect fit" she sneered at Alistair and gestured to her helmet. His expression gave her a brief flash of enjoyment.

She looked at him expectantly and then gestured to the path ahead with an impatient hand. Silently she dared him to comment.

Alistair could find nothing to say. He cleared his throat and turned heel to continue their patrol. He did not think too hard on what had just decidedly been one of the stranger experiences he'd had recently. Emery felt slightly triumphant that she'd rendered him speechless.

The ground began to get firmer and surroundings familiar, Emery realised they were drawing closer to camp. The air had grown frigid so that the mud that clung to her felt cold as ice. She was anxious to thaw out in front of a fire and was liable to eat the first morsel of food that entered her sight. She couldn't remember ever feeling so hungry in her life. Mercifully, through the grey light, she made out the paddocks they had exited the camp through earlier.

Alistair was thinking similar thoughts. Wardens did not tire easily but the gloom of the marshland Wilds had eaten away at his strength alarmingly. He hoped that Duncan and the others would see to things in the caverns in a timely manner. Although it was just him and Emery he felt uncomfortable being in charge- likely due to the fact that he had a maddening propensity to say the wrong thing around her. In addition, though, Alistair realised that he'd never been given much responsibility in his life- he'd only ever been the responsibility of others. He wasn't exactly sure if he approved of the change quite yet. But it mattered little, he thought, Emery would not be his to worry about for much longer. Thank the Maker. In few days Duncan and Airard would return and she would be properly mentored by one of them- he suspected Airard. All he had to do was survive her until then- though given her temper and strange moods it felt unlikely he would do so unscathed.

The young wardens entered the vicinity of the compound, the scent and sounds of restless mounts drifting toward them.

Out of the gloom, a figure appeared, hooded and lithe, as if moulded from the mist and darkness. It grabbed at Alistair, causing him to cry out.

"Wait- "said Airard, gingerly removing his hood before Alastair could draw his weapon.

"Airard!" Emery exclaimed as the elf buckled to the floor. Something was wrong. Alistair and Emery rushed to him, all thoughts of warm rest and food evaporated.

"Listen to me. There isn't much time-" He told them. The darkness had robbed the world of colour so that the blood on Airard glinted wet and black.

"What's happened?" asked Alistair in a small voice. Airard grimaced, pain and grief entering the lines of his face and body,

"I've done a terrible thing. I should never have trusted Loghain- he's betrayed me"

"What have you done? Where's Duncan" asked Alistair, dread had crept into his veins and slithered its way to his heart.

"No," Emery interrupted, "We have to get you to camp. You're bleeding out," she said, voice wavering on the last two words. Her mind flashed back to her father lying in the great hall. There was so much blood. Desperately she clutched at Airard, trying to find the wound.

"Get off me!" he growled viciously, and pushed her away causing her to stumble backward onto the ground, "I'm done for- and glad of it."

"Where is Duncan?" Alistair repeated, shouting suddenly, anger and desperation creeping into his voice. Airard's answer was rasped out of a throat clogged with blood and grief.

"The king is dead, Duncan and the others too. I am to blame. It was Loghain, who did it, but I'm to blame-" his own choking sob interrupted his words and suddenly the world had been set off kilter. Disbelief and anger raced through Alistair.

"No," He growled, grabbing Airard's shoulders and shaking him, "Tell me the truth. Where are the others?"

"Loghain and his men…killed them"

"What do you mean? What's happened?" Emery said urgently, scarcely believing Airard herself, Alistair was struck speechless with denial and anger. The elf lay on the ground, fading away. Emery and Alistair leant over him, white-faced and fearful.

"It only...only was meant to be Cailan- only Cailan," he whispered weakly, his speech beginning to slur. Emery reeled in horror at the implication of his words - an assassination, a coup. Worst of all, the wardens were involved.

"Duncan didn't know," Airard confessed, "He wasn't involved" The dying elf looked at Alistair and Emery who had grown still as stone."Listen…go to The Circle. They'll be after you. The mages know the truth. I've sent word. Find Levreth, he wasn't in the caverns. Duncan sent him with your brother- to watch over him. Find him. He has friends in the Circle- go there. You must go there!" he cried, grabbing Emery. Alistair's face was set in a blank, hollow-eyed expression. He seemed unmoved by Airard's words. He got up slowly and turned his back on the dying warden without a word, retreating out of earshot with a leaden gait.

Airard watched him go with an expression of such sadness and remorse Emery felt sick with pity.

"He's right," Airard told her, breathes coming short and fast, "Leave me here. If-if Levreth…If you cannot find him go to Redcliffe. Trust only the Arl."

His lungs and airways wheezed sickeningly as he breathed. Airard's eyes began to droop unnaturally.

Abruptly he grabbed Emery and pulled her closer. Startled, she cried out and tried to unsuccessfully wrench free of his cold and steely grip. He looked at Emery straight in the eye- gaze piercing. Lucid and calm he said finally,

"Don't let him die. Do not let Alistair die."

She nodded fervently and then he was gone. Emery scrambled back in fright and grief. She forgot to be angry at Alistair, forgot that she found him exasperating.

"Alistair," she said desperately, "Alistair- he's... Maker, I'm so sorry. He's g-gone."

The warden's back was to her- stiff, and unmoving, his hands clenched at his side.

"There are soldiers coming," he said in a dead voice. True enough she heard the shouts of a search party up ahead. Terror overtook Emery as she understood. 'They'll be after you' was what Airard had told them.

"Alistair," She yelled forcefully, trying to get his attention "We're leaving- now. Find a horse. Take any supplies you can find. Alistair!" She walked over and physically shook him. "Snap out of it. I'm not leaving without you."

His vision seemed to clear and he let out a shaky sigh,

"We can't go north from here."

"I know," Emery replied as they hurried to find horses. Emery located the mare Duncan had given her and it whickered softly as she approached. "We'll head into the Wilds then circle back around, avoiding the road"

"- but the marshes. They'll catch us. We'll never-"

"We can do this Alistair. Don't you dare give up," she said simply, some of her familiar temper had bled into her night was deep around them as they led their mounts.

* * *

They rode little, not wanting to tire out the beasts in the sinking marsh. The going was as slow as they dared. It was difficult to pick out a sturdy path with only the moon to light the way. The map Duncan had given them only showed the areas surrounding the Ostagar- it eventually became useless. They hiked through the night in absolute silence. Neither of them was willing to call their sad procession to a halt- it would mean having to nothing else to concentrate on besides the events of that day.

* * *

_**Hi there! I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far. Please drop a review if you can - I'd love some feedback :)** _


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